


Rediscovery

by Kei (strawberryjambouree)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Sexual Confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6961900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryjambouree/pseuds/Kei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iwaizumi is fairly certain he likes Oikawa, but he's not sure if he's attracted to other guys. Mattsun and Makki offer to help out.</p><p>But of course, Oikawa just has to walk in on them.</p><p>And Oikawa absolutely flips his shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's got to get worse before it gets better.

Iwaizumi stares at his bedroom ceiling fan. It spins lazily, around and around and around, the hum filling his ears. But it can't drown out his thoughts.

_I think I'm gay._

He glances at his phone. He knows there's a way to check, just a few searches, a few videos, to see if he's really into guys, but he also knows it won't matter. He's just going to end up even more confused.

The temptation, however, proves to be too strong. Irritably, he snatches his phone off of his desk and taps in the passcode.

Oikawa fills his vision. He must have stolen Iwaizumi's phone and changed the wallpaper to a selfie of his, again. But it's actually a good selfie this time. Iwaizumi's certainly no photographer, but he knows good lighting when he sees it. Sunlight bounces off of Oikawa's perfect fluffy hair and perfect white teeth and perfect milky skin, and Oikawa's winking with a bit of tongue sticking out, running a hand carelessly through his bangs. A flirtatious pose.

Iwaizumi feels his neck heating up and promptly drops his phone on his face.

"Fuck," he hisses. _I am so fucking screwed._

  
Iwaizumi doesn't know what he did to deserve this shit on a Thursday evening.

Matsukawa and Hanamaki keep touching each other in the most blatantly intimate places as they change after practice. Mattsun brushes his thumb gently over Makki's cheekbone, Makki squeezes Mattsun's bicep appreciatively, winking as he digs his nails in, and they both skitter their fingertips over each other's lower backs.

Iwaizumi can barely concentrate on putting each foot through the correct leg of his pants. It doesn't help that Oikawa waltzes in and doesn't pay any mind to those two, instead chirping out a "Good practice today, Iwa-chan!" before pulling his shirt over his head in one swift motion.

Iwaizumi's throat muscles stick together as his eyes drag from Oikawa's prominent collarbone to his gently rolling abs to the dusting of hair leading to the waistband on his very short shorts. He bites his lip. His entire mouth seems to have dried out.

"Iwa-chan?" Oikawa's teasingly concerned voice snaps him out of it; he rips his gaze away from hipbones that he's sure would fit against his hands like jigsaw-puzzle pieces. "What're you staring at, huh?"

"Nothing," Iwaizumi splutters and immediately hates himself. He jerkily bends down to tie his shoes, the laces refusing to cooperate with his sweaty fingers.

He does _not_ like the look that Makki and Mattsun are sharing.

Yahaba walks into the club room.

"Hmm, if you say so," Oikawa practically purrs, going back to changing. "You know, you're always welcome to have this amazing body all for yourself whenever you want."

Iwaizumi chokes on his spit.

Yahaba resolutely turns around and walks the _fuck_ right back out.

Makki and Mattsun are clutching each other, dying of laughter. Iwaizumi is dying of embarrassment. Oikawa looks completely unaffected.

"Well, hurry up and change, Iwa-chan," Oikawa finger-combs his hair back into place, and throws a smirk over his shoulder at his beet-red friend. "Or you don't get anything."

"Shittykawa, stop playing around," Iwaizumi grinds out, standing up to leave.

"Mm, alright." Oikawa passes him on the way to the door and slaps his ass.

The door swings shut.

Iwaizumi is not aware of whether or not he is even breathing.

He isn't happy about this, that's for sure. Oikawa's being a little shit. Nothing new. But he hasn't acted like this before, and it gives Iwaizumi a sick feeling low in his stomach. Oikawa is just playing around, trying to get a rise out of him. He's flirting with Iwaizumi like he would flirt with a girl, and that really pisses him off.

He's also fairly terrified of what will happen should Oikawa decide to continue bothering him in this borderline-sexually-harassing way.

But more than anything, Iwaizumi feels lost. Why is Oikawa even doing this? It's already affecting him so much. His secret is surely going to be exposed if Oikawa keeps this up. He plops back onto the bench and slumps his head in his hands.

"Hey man, I get that you're a little embarrassed by your boyfriend there," Mattsun starts. "But we gotta-"

" _He's not my boyfriend_ ," Iwaizumi chokes, and fuck, now he's crying.

He can hear the little intake of breath, the tiny "oh, _shit_ " hovering in the air as he painfully swallows a sob, and then Mattsun and Makki are sitting carefully on either side of him.

"So like... that was all him? You didn't know he was gonna do that?" Makki asks uncertainly.

"Y-yeah, I don't know what the fuck he thinks he's doing." Iwaizumi angrily swipes the tears off his cheeks, but they are quickly replaced and he gives up. "He better not do that again, fuck..."

"So... do you..? I mean, are you..?" Mattsun pauses delicately. "Do you like Oikawa?"

"Yeah."

Mattsun lets out a low breath, scratching the back of his neck. "You gay?"

"I don't know, man."

He and Makki share another look. "Hey," Makki says, gently touching Iwaizumi's arm."If you wanted, we could, you know, help you with that."

Iwaizumi lifts his head up and stares, clearly confused, at Makki. "What?"

"I mean, you could just try kissing us and see if you like it. It wouldn't have to mean anything. But obviously you don't have to, if that makes you uncomfortable."

Iwaizumi's stomach swoops. Kissing another guy? Kissing Mattsun and/or Makki? He can feel his heart palpitating. "I-I don't know if I want to do that."

"That's fine," Mattsun stretches his arms behind himself and cracks his back. His shirt rides up a little. A strip of tan skin shows.

Iwaizumi can't seem to look away. "So you two are..?"

"A flaming homosexual," Makki answers easily at the same time as Mattsun says, "Makkisexual." They grin at each other.

Iwaizumi takes about two more seconds to think before he blurts, "Let's try it."

Mattsun raises his bushy eyebrows. "You're absolutely sure?" Iwaizumi nods, a little too hard. Makki gets up and locks the door.

Iwaizumi's heart jumps again. "Why'd you lock it?"

Makki's eyebrows mirror his partner's. "Do you _want_ to get walked in on?"

"No," Iwaizumi mumbles, flushing. He feels so, so nervous.

"Me first, then?" Mattsun asks softly, and Iwaizumi nods again, stiffly swinging one leg around the bench so they're facing each other. He grips the hem of his shirt so tightly his knuckles turn white. He almost yelps as Makki swings his own leg over and presses his torso to Iwaizumi's back, gently pulling his fingers away from his poor shirt.

Mattsun runs his hands up and down Iwaizumi's toned arms. "Relax," he murmurs. "Just leave it to me, alright?"

"Alright," Iwaizumi breathes, and then Mattsun's hands are loose in his hair and they're kissing.

It's just gentle presses at first, closed and chaste. It's Iwaizumi who decides to take another step, keeping his lips against Mattsun's for just a second longer, just a little heavier. One hand tangles with Makki's, resting on his thigh, and the other reaches up to tentatively rest on the nape of Mattsun's neck, angling his head a bit to the left.

Mattsun licks against Iwaizumi's lips and a shudder runs up his spine. Makki's free hand starts rubbing lazy circles into his stomach.

Iwaizumi's mouth falls open to let Mattsun's tongue invade, pressing against his teeth and the roof of his mouth, pulling tiny moans from him. Makki's hand sneaks beneath his shirt and he doesn't even care, it feels so nice and warm and good and—

" _Hajime?!_ "

Iwaizumi's stomach drops clean out of his body while his heart springboards into double-time.

"Shit," Makki hisses. "I forgot the lock's broken."

Mattsun sits back carefully, wiping his mouth to stare up at a completely red Oikawa.

" _What_ \- what is- wh- what do you think-?!" Oikawa splutters. His hands gesticulate wildly, clenching and unclenching rapidly. "Hajime, what the _fuck_ are you _doing_?"

Iwaizumi can't speak. He seriously thinks he may be having a panic attack- his adrenaline and abject terror levels are through the fucking roof, and he feels vaguely dissociated, as if he'e dreaming. But no, Oikawa is really there. Oikawa really just walked in on Iwaizumi getting in on with not one but _two_ other guys.

And Oikawa looks downright furious. If glares could kill, they'd all have been long dead.

"And _you two!_ " Oikawa turns on Mattsun and Makki, who look both frightened and annoyed. "Were you taking advantage of Hajime? I swear to god, if you were, I'll- _I'll-!_ " His voice reaches a shrieking pitch.

"Hell no, we weren't taking advantage of Iwaizumi!" Makki snarls, now fairly pissed.

"Well, don't you _ever_ touch him like that again, do you un-"

"Why the fuck are you acting like he belongs to you? He's a grown-ass man, he can make his own decisions!"

Oikawa inhales sharply. He storms over to the bench and leans down, right in Makki's face. "I thought I made it quite obvious earlier," he says, terrifyingly quiet.

Iwaizumi finds his voice. "Made what obvious?"

Oikawa's hysterical gaze snaps to Iwaizumi, who flinches. He breathes hard through his nose. "I can't fucking believe you." His bottom lip trembles, a dead giveaway that he's about four seconds away from bursting into tears.

Iwaizumi has never felt more conflicted in his life. He wants to pull Oikawa into his arms and make him tell him everything that's wrong, but he also wants to punch him in the face for turning an enjoyable makeout session into... _this_. This roiling mess of tension and anger, radiating off of Oikawa in waves.

"Oikawa, I'm fine, we were just... just testing something out, it's nothing to worry about."

Oikawa eyes Iwaizumi suspiciously. "Testing what out?"

"Just some... stuff, okay? Don't worry about it."

"Mattsun had his tongue down your throat and Makki had his hands up your shirt," Oikawa says flatly. "What the fuck were you testing?"

"I was trying to see if it..." Iwaizumi trails off. Suddenly, he's angry. He's _so angry_. He doesn't even know why. He doesn't owe Oikawa any information, Oikawa's been nothing but an ass to him all day, and he's so fucking angry. "You know what? Makki's right. _You don't own me, Shittykawa_. I don't have to tell you." His voice is unbelievably shaky. He wonders if it's really from the anger.

Oikawa bites his lip, but it's trembling so badly that it just slips away. "I'm..." his voice cracks, and all of Iwaizumi's anger drains away as quickly as it arrives. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Oh _god_." He trips backwards over his feet in his haste to escape and lands flat on his ass.

He just sits there, staring at his shoelaces, before picking himself up, tears and snot silently pouring down his once-beautiful face. "You're right. Not being one of my few friends, not even being my best fucking friend in the entire world, makes you obligated to tell me anything." A sob wrenches itself from his lungs. "Sorry. I'm a shitty friend. I'm fucking _awful_. I guess that's why you couldn't even... that's why you had to test things out with Mattsun and Makki, because I'm not..." He clenches his jaw tight. "I'll just go, then. I'm a piece of shit. It's okay if you don't want me anymore."

He leaves.

It's dead silent.

"We fucked up," Mattsun rasps. "We all fucked up."

Iwaizumi has never cried so hard in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another multi-chapter... sorry, this chapter is mostly angst. But you should by now that I live for happy endings, so don't worry too much!!


	2. This is the part where it gets better, right..?

_Please talk to me_

Sent six days ago.

Read five days ago.

No response.

Iwaizumi clenches his teeth as he looks at the text for the fifteenth time that day. The team is starting to fall apart at the seams; their coordination is all off, and Oikawa's serves are failing at a rapidly increasing rate. The coach has already taken them aside to lecture them about resolving whatever shit they had with each other so they could be a team again.

But Oikawa's had none of it. He refuses to even look at Iwaizumi, and they both come to school with puffy red eyes more often than not. Iwaizumi's losing sleep, and he just knows Oikawa is getting by on about three hours a night, like he used to before Iwaizumi forced him to leave the gymnasium along with the rest of them.

Now he stays, and Iwaizumi can't bring himself to tell him not to.

He looks back up at the board and it's covered in notes he didn't copy down, equations he can't understand and symbols he can't even name; he wants to cry and then maybe sleep for about ten years.

For the first time ever, he skips practice for a reason other than the flu.

"Hajime, what's wrong?" his mother asks, but he just grunts and trudges up to his room, flopping down on his futon and falling asleep immediately. He didn't even change out of his uniform. He doesn't care if it gets wrinkled. It doesn't matter.

Nothing matters if Oikawa has decided to be done with him.

"Look, Iwa-chan, I'm working myself to death!" He springs into the air to perform his signature jump serve, and his neck gets caught in a noose. He falls.

_Snap!_

Iwaizumi wakes up at midnight, panicking and sweating, and doesn't get any more sleep for fear of recurring nightmares.

 

Mattsun is the one who corners Iwaizumi after practice, about a week and a half after the incident. They're taking down one of the poles, but it slips out of Iwaizumi's numb grip and nearly crushes his toes. He merely blinks at it dazedly.

Mattsun manages to roll his eyes while also looking extremely concerned. He hefts the pole onto his own shoulder and grabs Iwaizumi's wrist, pulling his along to the supply closet.

Across the gym, Makki corners Oikawa, whose eyes are glued to Mattsun's hand on Iwaizumi's sweaty skin.

The supply closet door clicks shut. The fluorescent light flickers feebly above them as Mattsun leans the pole against the wall and turns to Iwaizumi, loosely crossing his arms. "So," he says. "When are you going to tell Oikawa you're hopelessly in love with him and not me and Hiro?"

Iwaizumi blinks confusedly. Hiro? He must mean Makki. Hanamaki. Hanamaki Takahiro.

This is _ridiculous_. His brain feels like it's made of petroleum jelly, colourless and gooey.

"You heard him yourself. Our friendship's over," is what makes it out of his mouth, past his swollen tongue.

Mattsun throws his arms up in pure frustration. " _No_ , it is _not_ ," he says, volume rising steadily. "His words were, 'It's okay if you don't want me anymore.' And you know what you did? You went and showed him that you didn't want him. You didn't talk to him, didn't explain anything, and now he thinks you hate him!" His tone borders hysteria. "He said that! To Kunimi, who told Hiro, who told me, who is now telling you, because..." Mattsun's voice cracks. "Fuck, Iwaizumi, he's killing himself from working so much. I don't think he's slept in days, I can't remember the last time I saw him eat, he's ruining his body, he doesn't care anymore, and you need to _fucking fix it!_ "

Iwaizumi stares blankly at the wall behind Mattsun's shaking legs. He breathes soft, slow. He can't lose control and cry again, not here, not now, not ever. "I don't know how," he whispers.

"Just explain what happened. Tell him you were experimenting with your sexuality because you think you might be gay, tell him he's the one who made you question it, tell him you'd rather have done all of that with him. God, I don't know, Iwaizumi, tell him whatever it takes to get him back." He uncrosses his arms and sighs heavily, moving past Iwaizumi to exit the supply closet. "You're not the only one here who cares about him, dumbfuck. But you are the only one who can fix this."

Iwaizumi stands in that closet for a very long time.

 

_If you aren't going to talk to me, come over so I can talk to you_

No response.

_If you aren't coming over I'm breaking into your house_

_ill come so shut up_

Iwaizumi's heart leaps into his throat. The first words from Oikawa in far too long, and they're short and bitter and ugly, but they're there and it's a start.

Fifteen minutes later, Iwaizumi opens the door to let Oikawa in. It's nearly eleven PM and the moon hangs low and bulbous in the sky, wan light spilling half-heartedly over the dark streets and the sharp planes of Oikawa's face.

He looks like _shit_.

The bags under his eyes look they were drawn on in black eyeliner, his cheeks have hollowed in, and his hair is greasy and limp. His lips are bitten and chapped. His shoulders are tense and his hands are curled tightly into fists.

He is leaning very, very heavily on his good knee.

Iwaizumi's entire insides twist in pain.

"I've got a lot of explaining to do," he says instead of what he really wants to, and gestures for Oikawa to come inside.

Oikawa stiffly walks into the house. Iwaizumi can see the outline of his heavy-duty knee brace on, the kind he would be forced into when he damaged his knee beyond normal recovery. He wants to reach out and pull Oikawa into his arms so badly his biceps are spasming with the effort of holding back.

Iwaizumi's mother wordlessly observes them, and in a resolved sort of understanding, walks away, up to her room, and closes the door.

Oikawa follows Iwaizumi silently down to his bedroom, where Iwaizumi tiredly plops onto the bed and pats the space next to him. Oikawa sits as far away as he can. Iwaizumi pretends this doesn't twist the knife.

"So what you saw that day... nothing is really going on between Mattsun and Makki and I," he starts, looking anywhere but at Oikawa for fear of losing his nerve completely. "I was... I was experimenting with, um... with my sexuality." He winces at how unnaturally forced the words feel. "I'm pretty sure I'm gay. And they offered to help me test all that out. I said it was okay. But it didn't mean anything. We all knew it wasn't ever going to mean anything. It was supposed to be a one-time thing so I could... so I could be sure I was making the right decision when I finally... finally told the guy I like that I like him..." He runs a hand through his hair, spiking it up even more.

Oikawa is staring rapturously at Iwaizumi, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing.

"And, I don't know, I thought you were just playing around earlier that day, flirting with me and stuff, and it just made me really confused and kind of hurt that you could take something like that so lightly," Iwaizumi digs his fingers into his sweatpants as he begins rambling. "'Cause after you caught us, you acted like you were... like you owned me, and that really pissed me off for a bit, 'cause if you didn't take what you did earlier seriously, why were you crying over that? And I just..." Finally he turns to Oikawa, who's mouth is parted in shock. "I felt so guilty and confused about the whole thing, I made you cry and I didn't know how to handle it, and I just didn't know what to do, I didn't know when to talk to you, 'cause you ignored my text and that really hurt, and I'm sorry, Tooru, I'm so sorry." He swallows painfully past the lump in his throat.

Oikawa scoots towards him, hesitantly.

"I don't hate you," Iwaizumi continues, voice cracking every other word. "God, how could I ever hate you? I was doing that with Mattsun and Makki for you. I was making sure of everything so I wouldn't fuck up our friendship over nothing. It was always you, Tooru. I-" He starts to cry. "I _love_ you."

Oikawa hesitates only one second longer.

Thin fingers swipe gently across Iwaizumi's cheekbones, over and over, like windshield wipers sweeping away the rain. He shuffles closer until their thighs are pressing together. "Iwa-chan," he rasps. "Look at me."

Iwaizumi hiccups and lifts his gaze to meet Oikawa's.

"Iwa-chan, it's always been you, too. That's why I freaked out so badly. I'm sorry. I'm really really s-sorry, too. Since I was eight years old, it's always b-been you."

Iwaizumi sobs.

Their hands clutch desperately to the backs of each other's hoodies, crying into each other's shoulders at how completely stupid they've been, Iwaizumi chokingly loud, Oikawa shakily quiet. At some point they fall backwards to tangle with the blankets, drying their tears in sheets that smell just like Iwaizumi, clean and warm.

"Promise me you'll start taking care of yourself now," Iwaizumi whispers after a while.

Oikawa simply nods and burrows his face deeper into his chest, tangling their legs together.

"You sleeping here?"

A light hum vibrates just below his collarbone. A faint smile twitches against Iwaizumi's lips. He starts stroking Oikawa's hair, detangling it, slow and lazy, almost reverent. "Tooru?"

"Mm?"

"Can I kiss you now?"

Oikawa's head snaps up, almost bashing Iwaizumi's chin. "Wha-? You really want to? But I'm- I'm all gross."

"So am I. I don't care."

Oikawa shimmies upward and digs his nails nervously into Iwaizumi's forearms. "Okay." His eyes flutter shut and Iwaizumi can't help but mirror him.

Their lips press together softly once, twice, three times, and it's so much nicer than kissing Mattsun because Iwaizumi wants this, has wanted it for god knows how long, and now he has it and the feeling of relief that floods his chest is simply indescribable. He feels like he could cry again, but doesn't, and whispers against Oikawa's lips every time they pull back a bit.

"God, I love you— you're so perfect— even with all your flaws— you're just— _perfect_ — and I love you— love you _so_ much— can't believe how much— of a fucking _idiot_ I've been— to have taken this long— to grow up— and tell you that— I love you, love you, love you— _so much_ —"

Oikawa twists his fingers into Iwaizumi's hair and pulls his head into a new angle, opening his mouth. Iwaizumi gladly follows, pressing their tongues together easily, and it's not very neat or even all that good, but it's Oikawa he's kissing, so he doesn't care. He snags Oikawa's bottom lip between his teeth and pulls on it as they break apart. Oikawa whimpers, legs twitching against Iwaizumi's.

"I love you, Tooru," Iwaizumi repeats breathlessly.

"I love you too, Hajime."

"You're gonna be okay. _We're_ gonna be okay."

Oikawa steals one last kiss, butterfly-light, lashes fluttering contentedly. "Yeah."

They lay there, smiling like fools at each other.

 

 _We'll be okay_ , Iwaizumi thinks just after midnight, gazing softly at a sleeping Oikawa, tucked snugly under his arm, nose pressing into Iwaizumi's cheek. _We'll be a lot more than okay._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be one more chapter!! It will probably be 99% fluff, lol. Thank you for reading so far!!


	3. It got better.

Living with Oikawa has not been easy.

The guy has about fifty different bottles of hair product cluttering up the bathroom sink and insists that he uses every single one of them. Iwaizumi has seen him use five at most. He is also a complete pain in the ass to get out of bed in the morning, wrapping himself in the blankets and whining until Iwaizumi either coaxes him out with kisses or shoves him to the floor. Oikawa has a lot of quirks to get used to; his cooking is absolute shit unless the radio is tuned to his favourite station, laundry needs to be done on Sunday or he'll get flustered and forget what day it is for the rest of the week, and he refuses to kiss Iwaizumi in the morning until they've both brushed their teeth.

But Iwaizumi loves it regardless. (Besides, it isn't as if he's not a pain to live with sometimes, too.)

He loves that when they come home from practice, sweaty and exhausted, they'll silently join each other in the bathroom and wash each other's hair, massage soap into each other's skin, and rest in the tub with their legs tangled together, just enjoying the silence and the other's company. He loves the rare times when Oikawa will drag himself out of bed before Iwaizumi and cook breakfast, swaying his hips along to some trashy bubblegum pop music as he flips pancakes and slices fruit, occasionally singing along when he thinks Iwaizumi is still sleeping and can't hear him. He loves that he can see the side of Oikawa that almost no one else can, the side with crooked glasses and alien-patterned pajamas, the side that eats too much popcorn as they watch yet another documentary about space, the side that is saving up to buy a high-end telescope so he can be just a little closer to the miasma of stars he loves so dearly.

He loves that Oikawa can trust him with anything, that he can now tell him when his knee is hurting, that he can tell Iwaizumi to take care of him because he knows Iwaizumi will do everything in his power and then some to do just that. He loves that Oikawa isn't so afraid anymore, that they can hold hands and kiss in public and not care who sends nasty glares at them. He loves that he is able to make it better when the looks _do_ get to Oikawa, when he breaks down and wonders if he can live like this for much longer, wonders if they would be better apart, wonders when they can simply live without being judged.

Iwaizumi loves Oikawa. And he doesn't care what anyone has to say about that.

So when, on a rainy Saturday in June, they see that the United States has legalized same-sex marriage, he sneaks off to the mall as Oikawa takes a rare afternoon nap and comes back with a simple black box warming his coat pocket.

Stripping down to his boxers, he crawls under the blankets next to Oikawa, who noses into his neck and sighs, still fast asleep. Drawing the sleeping man into his chest, Iwaizumi pushes the box between Oikawa's loosely curled fingers and presses a light kiss to his forehead. Oikawa snuffles unattractively and Iwaizumi is sleepily convinced that he would rather die than be apart from him.

Iwaizumi is woken up by a loud squeal and a barrage of kisses delivered sloppily to his entire face. He laughs into Oikawa's hair and finds his hands, slotting their fingers together and nudging Oikawa into a proper kiss, slow and deep. The ring presses into his palm.

 

"Ahh, look, they've finally decided to join us in the married couples club!" Oikawa drawls, throwing an arm around Iwaizumi's waist and pecking him on his jaw.

Kyoutani flushes a bright red and Yahaba just laughs.

The former Aoba Johsai team has met up at Makki and Mattsun's house for their bimonthly get-together and are sitting around the dining room table and on the kitchen counter, admiring the rings glittering on Kyoutani and Yahaba's fingers.

"Man, I never thought that even Mad Dog-chan could settle down with someone," Watari laughs, shaking his head.

"It's 'cause Shigeru's got him totally whipped," Kindaichi says sagely.

"You shouldn't be talking about being whipped when you've got Akira, Kin-chan," Oikawa giggles, throwing a glance at Kunimi, who merely shrugs and sips his lemonade.

Kindaichi splutters. " _What_ \- we're not- there's _nothing_ -"

Kunimi raises his eyebrows. "We're not?"

Kindaichi is at a loss for intelligent words. "We are?"

"Oh my god, you guys are worse than Tooru and his Iwa-chan back in high school," Mattsun rolls his eyes. "Just ask him out already, idiot."

"Uh." Kindaichi fumbles with his glass of water. "So, Akira, will you-?"

"Yep." Kunimi takes another sip of lemonade, completely unimpressed.

"Oh. Okay, then."

"FUCKING KISS HIM, YOU _COWARD_ ," Makki bellows from the bathroom down the hall, dissolving Oikawa into helplessly snorting giggles.

Kindaichi's entire face turns red as Kunimi leans over and pecks him on the nose, and Mattsun whoops loudly. Yahaba, Oikawa and Watari applaud their ridiculousness and Iwaizumi and Kyoutani just shake their heads at _their_ ridiculousness, smiling all the same.

 

It's only been three months since they tied the knot in America, but Iwaizumi feels like he's been married to Oikawa for years. They'd already lived together for a while, had dated for even longer, and have been in love forever.

He looks at his husband sleeping next to him, bathed in pale blue moonlight, and is thrown back to when they slept together as lovers for the first time, when Oikawa's face was as pale and as empty as death, when the tear tracks still felt fresh and cold on his cheeks, when his knee was so fucked up it was barely able to heal again.

Now they lay together for the thousandth time and Oikawa is smiling in his sleep, fluffy hair spilling over their pillows, the rings pressing against their bodies are warm and full of promises, and his knee is tucked safely between Iwaizumi's in its brace, strong and steady.

Living with Oikawa is difficult, but loving with him is the easiest thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd here's the fluff to cleanse your palette~ Thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
